


shattered angel (lose control)

by thunderylee



Category: KinKi Kids
Genre: Canon Universe, Crossdressing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-06
Updated: 2008-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-05 18:00:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12799431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Underneath every halo is a pair of horns.





	shattered angel (lose control)

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for je_holiday 2007.

It feels funny, but at the same time strangely natural. _One can be inspired by the oddest things_ , Koichi thinks as he shakes his head and smiles at the way his hair curls softly against the back of his neck.

The person in the mirror smirks back at him. Perhaps he enjoys this a little more than he’ll admit. The silk material hugs his body, creating curves that definitely shouldn’t be there but seem appropriate given the situation. The dress isn’t anything extravagant – Koichi didn’t linger in his sister’s closet long enough to consider his options.

It’s not like he hasn’t done this before, although this might be the first time it’s of his own volition. He doesn’t remember the schoolgirl uniforms being this comfortable; they were for the most part tight and restricting in certain areas, while his sister’s dress is long and flowing and looks surprisingly good on him despite the obvious lack of cleavage. It isn’t anything spectacular, a simple red gown with thin straps and no back, which Koichi can’t peel his eyes away from as he turns around to check out that side.

He almost doesn’t recognize himself. Glancing over his shoulder, taking in his coal-rimmed eyes under a fringe of bangs, thick red lips, and the curled waves of his real hair that frame his painted face, he feels like he’s looking at someone else, an actual female with a slender form, abnormally muscular arms, and an amazing ass.

It’s with this mentality that he sits at his computer, legs crossed neatly, feeling the material cling to his freshly-shaven skin, and closes his eyes, waiting for inspiration to come. Normally he would just write when he feels like it, if an idea strikes him or he sees something stimulating that makes him email himself strings of lyrics from his phone since he can’t write them down right away.

One eye peeks open, once again taking in his reflection as he tries not to get discouraged; this is what works for Tsuyoshi, after all. Tsuyoshi, who will never _ever_ find out about this. Ever.

Koichi doesn’t like being a hypocrite.

He’s supposed to be thinking about Tsuyoshi anyway, and this is a good place to start. Tsuyoshi admitted to doing this himself, even if he tried to play it off like he was kidding, but Koichi knows better. After thirteen years, he knows Tsuyoshi better than anyone, and they’re not even really friends. They don’t have to be.

He wonders if Tsuyoshi’s trying to tell him something. Koichi isn’t good with code and pretty much anything that isn’t said outright or written in plain kanji won’t be received any other way than face value. He’s not too sure what Tsuyoshi might be trying to say, but Tsuyoshi says a lot in so many words and a lot of the time Koichi pretends to follow just to keep from getting even more confused. He learned a long time ago just to nod and smile because in the end, Tsuyoshi just wants someone to listen to him talk.

The cursor on the screen blinks back at him mockingly from the empty document and he frowns. He doesn’t think he’s going in the right direction with this. It might help if he knew _how_ Tsuyoshi thought about him when he was doing it, but knowing Tsuyoshi it could be anything. He also has to be careful not to think too much about the actual act of Tsuyoshi in these kinds of clothes with these kinds of feelings that take Koichi’s mind to a place where it definitely should not go.

Koichi bangs his head on the desk, for it is much, much too late. Visions of Tsuyoshi in similar attire have flooded his vision, only his dress would of course be blue. Tsuyoshi’s reactions to the unfamiliar sensations, seeing himself like that, maybe his own thoughts of Koichi not so innocent…

And then the words come. His fingers are flying on the keyboard of their own accord, telling a story that’s obscure but at the same time not, at least not to him, and in the back of his mind he’s amazed that this whole setup actually worked. He has two verses and a chorus before he knows it, and when he rereads it, putting it to the music in his head, it’s _good_. A little risqué, but since when has that ever shocked anyone before.

He’s so in awe at his success that he doesn’t hear his front door open.

“Get dressed, we’re going ou-”

Koichi’s neck snaps towards the intruder, his eyes wide and guilty, and Tsuyoshi freezes like somebody pushed his pause button. He’s unmoving, Koichi doesn’t even think he’s breathing, his eyes locked on Koichi’s face and very slowly traveling down the length of his body.

“Stop staring, pervert,” Koichi teases, deciding to take the humility route. “How did you get in?”

Tsuyoshi holds up a key, his gaze in the general vicinity of Koichi’s legs.

“Is that your emergency key?”

Nod.

“What could possibly make you think that this was an emergency?”

“Knocking…” Tsuyoshi manages to sputter out. “Ten minutes. Heard noises. Worried. Kouchan?” He shakes his head in disbelief, gaping.

His face warming, Koichi stands to his full height and bows his head, shaking with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, for not hearing the door and making you worry, also for making fun of you when you said that you-” He cuts himself off as Tsuyoshi inhales sharply, raising his eyes to take in Tsuyoshi’s completely indescribable look. “Why are you making that expression like you’ve never seen me like this before? Did we just meet for the first time?”

“I think so,” Tsuyoshi whispers.

More ambiguity. Koichi doesn’t know what to say – he opens his mouth to speak only to close it when the words don’t come, repeating the process several times before he gives up and sighs. “Why did you come here?”

“I forgot,” Tsuyoshi says simply, lifting his eyes to meet Koichi’s.

“You wanted to go somewhere?” Koichi prods.

Tsuyoshi shakes his head. “No.”

Frowning, Koichi folds his arms over his chest and studies Tsuyoshi’s demeanor. He doesn’t remember ever seeing Tsuyoshi this… lost. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I don’t know.”

He takes in Tsuyoshi’s appearance – T-shirt, jeans, weird hat. Uncharacteristically big eyes boring into his. Mouth parted like he’s physically unable to keep it closed. Hands clenched into fists at his sides, squeezing over and over again, enough to visibly shake. Face the slightest tinge of pink.

Koichi’s body reacts in the most unexpected way. The silk is caressing his skin, creating a small amount of friction in areas that shouldn’t be active right now. It’s… _indecent_ and shameful and Koichi wants to turn and run away, but it’s like his feet are glued to the floor and even if they weren’t, he’s not going anywhere.

This isn’t right, he thinks. It’s Tsuyoshi. They’re both grown men. He recognizes the flash in Tsuyoshi’s eyes as plainly as if it’s stamped on his forehead. He’s aroused. Highly. He’s clenching his fists together to keep from acting upon it. Tsuyoshi has amazing willpower.

And suddenly everything fits. Koichi gasps as acquiescence floods his brain, piecing together cryptic statements and anomalous expressions over the years that he hasn’t understood until just now, but what’s more surprising is that even though he should want to run away even more, he’s still adamant on staying.

“Stop me,” Tsuyoshi says, frantic.

“Don’t want to,” Koichi replies, automatic.

Koichi didn’t know a wall could feel so cold. The bare skin of his back and arms becomes covered in goosebumps, although something tells him that it’s not from the temperature. It doesn’t make sense how he can be so cold with Tsuyoshi all over him – hand in his hair, body pressed against his, forehead leaning together with hot breath on his face – but then again, right now nothing makes much sense.

Except that it does. Tsuyoshi lingers above his mouth, eyes closed, heartbeat audible – or maybe that’s Koichi’s. Koichi’s blood boils in anticipation. He _wants_ this, he actually wants it. He wants Tsuyoshi to close the distance between them, wants to feel those lips on his. He wonders if Tsuyoshi will slip him the tongue, thinks that he wants him to, wants to be pinned to the wall and rendered helpless as the normally composed Tsuyoshi loses control.

“Can’t stop,” Tsuyoshi mumbles, his other hand coming to rest on Koichi’s hip.

Koichi slips his arms around Tsuyoshi’s waist, his fingertips playing with the hem of Tsuyoshi’s shirt. “Good.”

“Can’t believe,” Tsuyoshi goes on, tightening his grip on Koichi’s hair in a way that doesn’t hurt at all. “So long…”

“Show me,” Koichi orders in his deep voice.

Tsuyoshi does. His mouth comes crashing down on Koichi’s and it’s a little rough, a little less romance and a little more raw attraction. Koichi’s more than okay with that, his hands sliding up Tsuyoshi’s shirt, feeling the hot skin of his back and the muscles that are contracting under his touch as he willingly lets Tsuyoshi into his mouth. He tastes of mint and tea, power and passion, and a hint of the cigarette he tried to cover up. Koichi chuckles.

He likes it. Holding Tsuyoshi close, too close, not close enough, he tilts his head and shows Tsuyoshi how _he_ kisses, strong and sensual and serious. Tsuyoshi starts to melt in his arms, a small mewling noise sounding from the back of his throat, and then he’s clutching onto Koichi, kissing him fiercely and tangling his fingers in his hair, probably messing up his curls but he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter anymore.

Koichi’s skin is on fire, the goosebumps long gone by the time they finally break apart for air. Tsuyoshi’s breathing heavily, leaning on Koichi like he would fall over otherwise, and he just might have. Koichi grabs onto the back of Tsuyoshi’s shirt and twists as Tsuyoshi’s mouth drops to his neck, sucking softly and urging Koichi to tilt his head for more. His hand drops to Koichi’s shoulders, lowering one dress strap slowly down his arm, and then the other, dipping his face to follow both strips of fabric with his lips. Koichi shivers and tugs on the shirt again, and this time Tsuyoshi pulls it over his head, taking his hat with it, then slides his hand up the slit in Koichi’s dress.

The look on Tsuyoshi’s face when he realizes that Koichi isn’t wearing anything underneath will be forever etched in his mind. His hand feels foreign on Koichi’s bare ass, at the same time welcome, becoming more welcome as he squeezes the flesh and in turn slams their groins together.

Tsuyoshi groans, lower than Koichi would have expected but it’s still music to his ears. He can feel how much Tsuyoshi wants him, how hot he’s made him, perhaps not just from today. Koichi’s erection is bathed in silk, rubbed by denim, so hard that it almost hurts, wanting more. When Tsuyoshi’s hand makes its way around to the front, Koichi arches his back and lets out a moan, fueling Tsuyoshi enough to wrap his fingers around him firmly, confidently, and stroke.

Koichi’s mouth is back on Tsuyoshi’s in an instant, tongues swirling together as Tsuyoshi swallows Koichi’s whimpers and pleas. Koichi’s fingers tremble as they come to rest on Tsuyoshi’s belt, hesitating long enough for Tsuyoshi to roll his hips in retaliation and growl impatiently. Koichi hasn’t seen this side of Tsuyoshi before, the dominant S gene that Koichi always thought he was the one who carried out of the two of them, but he doesn’t mind. Not at all. It’s almost preferable, given the circumstances. He’s the one in the dress, after all.

“Tsuyo,” Koichi mumbles against Tsuyoshi’s lips. “Feels good.”

“Yeah,” Tsuyoshi rasps, unfastening his belt and urging Koichi’s hand down his pants. “Make me feel good too.”

He’s nervous, but he’s not really given much choice as Tsuyoshi’s arousal slips into his hand like it’s supposed to be there. It’s thick and firm and pulsing, and Koichi only freaks out for a second before Tsuyoshi fuses their mouths together, muffling his high-pitched noises of appreciation as he pushes into Koichi’s touch, making it almost like he doesn’t have to move.

Tsuyoshi squeezes Koichi particularly hard, the latter tearing his mouth away and crying out from the pressure. He’s ready to come but doesn’t want to, not yet; he fights against nature and loses, feeling himself ready to explode.

“Tsuyo,” he says hysterically, unable to form any other syllables.

Koichi may know Tsuyoshi better than anyone, but it’s not nearly as well as Tsuyoshi knows Koichi. Tsuyoshi hears the unspoken request in his voice and lets up, but not really because his fingers go straight for Koichi’s mouth, and Koichi knows where this is going. He’s not innocent, not by a long shot – he’s a Johnny, after all. It’s been a long time since he’s done this, with another guy, and he knows that it’s not just going to be a one-night thing. That’s not Tsuyoshi’s style.

Unless. “Tsuyo,” Koichi hisses, and Tsuyoshi lets his fingers fall from Koichi’s lips and focuses on his face because he knows Koichi wants his full attention. “Are you pretending that I’m a girl?”

Out of all of the possible reactions, Koichi doesn’t expect Tsuyoshi to snort with laughter. “Kouchan,” he says simply. “It is a little difficult to do that when your very male part is poking into my stomach.” He pauses, and Koichi looks up to see his mouth smeared with his lipstick, his cheeks flushed and his eyes fully dilated. “If you don’t want to do this, tell me now, because once I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. I’ve wanted you for so long-”

That’s all Koichi needs to hear. He silences Tsuyoshi by sucking his fingers back into his mouth, very suggestively pushing them in and out while taking care to bathe them with his tongue. Tsuyoshi makes a small whining noise and twitches in Koichi’s hand, which immediately lets go and moves to unfasten the rest of Tsuyoshi’s pants while the corners of his lips turn upwards into a smirk.

Tsuyoshi’s chest rumbles in approval, extracting his fingers from Koichi’s mouth and capturing it with his own, kissing him purposefully as his hand slips between Koichi’s legs, slowly lifting his thigh with his forearm.

“Against the wall?” Koichi inquires, a little amused.

“Can’t wait,” Tsuyoshi grunts, gently circling Koichi’s most intimate area with one slick fingertip, a little too gentle for Koichi’s taste.

“If you think you can hold me up,” Koichi says with a moan, arching his body at Tsuyoshi’s touch. “You don’t have to be so delicate with me. I _have_ done this before.”

“I don’t want to think about that,” Tsuyoshi replies with a hint of anger in his voice, but he follows Koichi’s direction and plunges the digit inside him. “Lie to me and tell me you’ll only be with me from now on.”

“You’re the only one I want,” Koichi breathes, and he’s pretty sure it’s not a lie.

Tsuyoshi groans and inserts another finger, moving them back and forth and around like he’s looking for something. When he finds it, Koichi’s body goes completely lax and almost drops to the floor; he forgot about this part, or maybe the man he was with before hadn’t done it right and Koichi hasn’t experienced it yet, but either way it’s new to him, these shock waves of pleasure coursing throughout his body at a simple prod to a gland. Tsuyoshi can sense that, grinning against Koichi’s mouth that is no longer capable of something as complicated as kissing, abandoning it in favor of his neck, pressing wet kisses in a row until he reaches Koichi’s throat.

Tossing his head back, Koichi almost bangs it against the wall as Tsuyoshi licks his Adam’s apple, very aware that he’s a man indeed, and now there are three fingers inside him, stretching in all possible ways while making it a point to graze his prostate as well. In the meantime, the dress bunches around his waist as his other leg is lifted up over Tsuyoshi’s remaining arm, somehow balancing with one hand clutching his hip and most of his weight against the wall. Koichi doesn’t question these things.

“Kouchan,” Tsuyoshi mumbles into Koichi’s jaw, his voice persistent and needy. “Kouchan, you have to help me. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t hold you up with one hand anymore. I don’t know how much longer I can last before just _doing_ it.”

Koichi understands. “Where is it?”

“Back pocket.”

It’s a testament of Koichi’s flexibility that he can reach around Tsuyoshi’s waist, where his undone jeans are barely hanging on his hips, and fish around in the aforementioned pocket until he comes across a small tube. “I am not even going to ask why you brought this with you to my house.”

“You never know,” is Tsuyoshi’s amused reply. “Are you complaining?”

“Not at all.” Koichi makes quick work of the contents and wedges his hands down between their bodies, wrapping both of them around Tsuyoshi’s erection and coating it like he’s giving him a massage. Tsuyoshi whimpers a little, pushing against him and it must be too much, too long because Koichi barely has enough time to brace himself before Tsuyoshi’s inside him, slowly inching in, pushing through the resistance that he undoubtedly has despite the careful preparation.

“ _Kouchan_ ,” Tsuyoshi growls, his breath fast and audible as his arms start to shake from the weight. He manages to shift both of his hands to the swell of Koichi’s ass for better leverage, sending the back of Koichi’s head slamming into the wall as he starts to move. “Oh, my god, are you okay?”

“Don’t stop,” Koichi breathes, biting his lip in pain and clutching onto Tsuyoshi’s shoulders for dear life. “My couch is five feet behind you. Carry me there or drop to the floor, but _don’t stop_.”

Tsuyoshi of course opts for the most difficult endeavor and manages to make it the entire five steps without falling over or pulling out. Koichi lands rather harshly against the arm of the couch, but it’s much better than the wall and stable enough for Koichi to lean all the way back and spread his legs comfortably. The new angle has Tsuyoshi hitting right where he wants him, and he tries to convey this with a vocal moan that will hopefully keep Tsuyoshi from shifting around.

Koichi’s back arches so much that his head is on the couch cushion, upside-down for the most part with Tsuyoshi out of sight. He doesn’t much approve of this arrangement, but he can’t lift his head or push up his torso – a majority of his energy is currently concentrating on Tsuyoshi inside him, thrusting in and out at the speed of a tortoise. Koichi tries to match his rhythm and fails, growing frustrated at the slow pace and digging his nails into the tops of Tsuyoshi’s hands to express it.

“Fuck it,” Tsuyoshi hisses, letting his cock fall from Koichi long enough to shove him all the way down on the couch and climb on top of him, slipping back inside before Koichi even has time to whine. “I try to be caring and loving with you. I try to express how I feel about you with my actions. Then you stretch out like a damn cat and scratch me and moan like a whore, and -”

“Just tell me you love me and _fuck_ me,” Koichi snaps, hugging his knees to his chest and digging his heels into Tsuyoshi’s sides. “There will be time for that romantic mushy stuff later.”

He didn’t really think Tsuyoshi would do it, but given the events of the day so far, Koichi shouldn’t be surprised at anything his partner does anymore. Koichi’s voice can’t keep up with the speed at which Tsuyoshi is now pounding into him, falling into a silent scream as he clutches onto Tsuyoshi’s arms to keep from losing his mind completely.

“I love you,” Tsuyoshi whispers, his voice strained. “I always have. God. _Kouchan_.”

It starts, the tension accumulating inside him, and Koichi’s a little taken aback since nobody’s touching him. “Is it even possible?” he wonders out loud in more of a breath than actual words, then his eyes roll back and his muscles contract, his arms relocating to his own legs to open them as far as possible. He can feel Tsuyoshi’s eyes on him – squinting, maybe, but on him just the same – and while he should be ashamed, he’s not, because this is Tsuyoshi and if anyone is going to see him this vulnerable and exposed, nobody else comes close.

The sound that explodes from Tsuyoshi’s lungs is piercing, almost melodic, a series of very slurred Kansai-ben that might include Koichi’s name and a couple swear words. Koichi feels himself start to go over the edge and holds back, waiting for Tsuyoshi, at least until the latter presumably notices the neglected protrusion in his stomach and spares a hand to encase it. One touch is all it takes and Koichi’s gone, high above this plane of reality, screaming loud enough to hurt his throat as his orgasm knocks the wind out of him, literally – he almost chokes on his breath, and somehow this heightens the already overwhelming sensations as he spills himself all over Tsuyoshi’s fingers.

Tsuyoshi’s right behind him, very apparent now that Koichi’s mind is clear, and he’s kind of glad that they didn’t finish at the same time because this way he actually gets to see Tsuyoshi’s face, watch it distort and redden even more as he throws his head back and lets go, pulling out at the last minute to aim downwards.

Koichi waits until Tsuyoshi’s body stops trembling before saying, “That’s going to leave a stain.”

“I’ll buy you a new couch,” Tsuyoshi mumbles, chuckling softly.

“It’s the dress,” Koichi points out, stretching his legs out and hissing in relief, kicking off the forgotten material and watching it slide to the floor.

Tsuyoshi does the same with his jeans and automatically settles in Koichi’s embrace, skin to skin, nudging his head against Koichi’s shoulder until he’s comfortable. “I’ll buy you a new dress, then.”

“Only if you buy yourself one too,” Koichi teases, running his fingers through Tsuyoshi’s wild hair as his heartbeat calms.

“Only if you can manage to love me back,” Tsuyoshi says in a small voice, biting his lip in the very edge of Koichi’s peripheral vision. “I don’t let just anyone see me like that.”

Koichi smiles, his insides filling with warmth. “Me neither.”

A squeeze around the shoulders is all he gets in response, but it’s enough. After so many years of just talking, there’s really nothing else to say.

As Koichi falls asleep, the last chorus of his song comes to him, the melody more distinct in his head like it’s already been arranged. He almost laughs out loud at the blatant similarities, consequently deciding that this particular song won’t be one that’s ever heard by his fans. And still, somehow, this entire excursion hasn’t been a complete waste of time. Not at all, actually, because even though he won’t be releasing it, now he has someone to sing it for.


End file.
